9.23.2005

I feel like I want to say something about this, but I don't know what. It's starting to feel like a third-word country around here. Gas is hard to find, and shelves at the grocery store are looking kind of bare. I don't think Austin is equipped to host this many people. My stepdad had the foresight to make my mom, stepbrother, and stepsister leave from the coast on Wednesday morning to drive to my place. It still took them nine hours. My stepdad is on the Lake Jackson police force. He had to stay, so all we can do is watch CNN and pray that he's safe. We have trouble getting to talk to him because the cell phone networks are so busy. Somehow, in my head, I keep saying "this can't be happening, this is America." As if America is immune to natural (or man-made) disasters. I've never before realized what a cocoon my life has been. Maybe I'm growing up.